Page 119 of The Wedding Menu

I kiss him again, this time nipping his bottom lip with my teeth.

In a lower voice, he goes on, “…r-revisit the topic, then we can…”

At the next kiss, his hand grips my ass, pulling me closer, and mine travels underneath his sweater, feeling the corded muscles and smooth skin heave under my touch. “Ian, please, fuck me.”

He groans, then takes my mouth with his, his fingers holding on to the small of my back tighter until my dress crumples up in his fist. “Can I?”

“Yeah.” His mouth presses against my throat, little gasps coming out of me when his tongue traces down the side of my neck.

“Just to be clear: you’re okay with me taking your dress off.”

I purse my lips and, holding myself back, look into his dubious eyes. We definitely need to fix this before we do anything at all. “Ian, I know I’ve been acting a little crazy, but… please don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t treat me like I’ll shatter if you do something wrong. Don’t hold back or treat me differently or be delicate or—” When he wiggles his brows playfully, I chuckle. “No, I just mean—”

“I know what you mean,” he whispers as he grips my hips. His teeth nibble my earlobe, a soft sigh escaping me at the light sting. “You’re right. You’re not fragile, Amelie.” He steps forward until the backs of my knees touch the mattress. “You’re starved.”

I nod frantically as he looks down at my dress, eyes flaring, and once his lips crash against mine, his fingers tug on the fabric. We pause the kiss as he slides my dress over my head, and as the cold air hardens my nipples, I’m suddenly aware I’m completely naked except for the long socks. No bra, and he’s still got my panties. I’mnaked.

And shaved, thankfully.

“Amelie…” he softly sighs as his hand traces my chain all the way down between my breasts. “You’re beautiful.”

He leans forward, his lips pressing my shoulder, then my chest. His hot, wet mouth wraps around one of my nipples, and, clutching his hair, I let him lower me onto the bed.

As I grip the edge of the mattress, he kneels on the floor before me, his hands softly moving up my ankles, my shins, then my knees, pulling my socks off, first one, then the other, kissing both my thighs, and I’m pretty sure my heart is beating so fast that he can hear it from there. Can he also tell just how wet I am? Because I can feel it dripping down my thigh, probably onto his sheets.Oh, God. Can one betoowet? Maybe that’s what happens when you don’t have sex for a long time. Will he think it’s weird? Will he think it’s disgusting?

His eyes shoot to my face. “Amelie.”

“I—I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.” He continues kissing my thighs, then softly biting before passing his warm, wet tongue on my sensitive skin. “How about, instead of lying, you voice your concerns?”

My ovaries dance the waltz. Hecares. I don’t know why I need to keep being reminded of it, but does it really matter? He gets it, and he’s not here to use me, to take his orgasm and go. He wants me to enjoy it, and he won’t continue until he makes sure I do. “I’m just afraid I’m a little too…excited,” I explain as I quickly glance down.

His eyes follow mine as his hands stroke my outer thighs up to my hips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I say on a breath.

His throat works as he looks up at me. “Let me see.” With his chest pounding under his sweater and his lips parted, he looks as tense as a bowstring. “Please,” he continues in a deep, raspy voice, “spread your legs for me. Ineedto see how wet you are.”

When I nod, his hands lightly tug my knees apart, and I let him. His eyes roll down, and, releasing a quick breath, his shoulders drop slightly. “God, yes. Look at you, dripping for me.”

“Ian,” I gasp as he sticks out his tongue and licks higher up my inner thigh. My eyes close, goose bumps breaking out on my skin and my fingers tightening in the sheets on either side of me. With his mouth so close to the mark and his hot breath fanning over my drenched skin, pressure builds up in my stomach as if he’s doing much more than teasing me. “I—” I gasp at the contact of his stubble against my skin. “I need you.”

“Hmm.” His teeth pinch my flesh. “Show me where you want me.” When I only stare at him, his fingers entangle with mine, and he brings them to the back of his head with a lascivious smile. “Show me, Amelie.”

He pulls me to the edge of the mattress, and I’m splayed out in front of him, trembling as I guide him closer. Once his lips meet my slick skin, I moan, then moan louder as his tongue peeks out and sweeps through me, my body squirming. He smiles, then slides his hand up my thigh to grab my hip, his mouth wrapping around my clit and sucking.

“Oh—oh my God,” I breathe, shifting forward to give him better access. Each of his strokes sends my hips bucking against his mouth, my eyes rolling to the back of my head, my mouth opening with needy whimpers. It’s like my brain has been dipped in sugar and my body is turning liquid, until eventually I can’t hold myself up any longer, and I fall back against the mattress.

He hooks my legs over his shoulders, flattening his tongue and lapping all the way across my slit. “Your taste.” He inhales deeply. “God, you smell so fucking good.”

“Ian,” I murmur as I pull his hair to guide him closer. “Please.”

“Don’t rush me, Amelie.” He teases my clit again and again. “I’ve waited a whole year. We’re taking our time.”